Last Gift
by Bridgefall
Summary: AU, twins. - The Plan has to continue. We will win. Harry will win. Voldemort, no, Tom Riddle will not survive. Never. Even if it means Harry's death.


**Last Gift**

So, this is an early, very dramatic work. Please forgive me xD.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo Last Gift oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

I look at him, standing there, defiantly. My heart speeds up and my throat constricts. He is protecting us and I just let it happen. What sort of girlfriend am I? Is there no other way?

'Now who do we have here? If that isn't Harry Potter, the twin of our worshiped hero.' Voldemort turns away at these words and is now leering at my lover's twin.

'Don't you want to rescue your brother? No? Where is that brave Gryffindor courage you are said to have displayed again and again in the face of death and former selves of me?'

An expectant air surrounds the spectators, waiting for their hero to break forward and rescue his family. Nothing happens.

'Well, so be it. Your brother's death lies on your shoulders, Kevin Potter.'

Hatred, so deep that I'm pretty certain I could easily cast an _Avada Kedavra_ right now, bubbles up in the pit of my stomach. I hate those snake-like features. My hand itches to draw my wand, concealed in my sleeve and just cast it. Then my eyes flicker to Harry. I calm down. I have to stick to The Plan.

The Dark Lord … no Riddle, stupid bloody Tom Riddle turns to Harry again. I see him looking into the green eyes, green unlike Lily Potter's emeralds, but green like the Killing Curse. Harry doesn't stare defiantly, like you would expect from a Potter. He is looking calmly into the red rubies of the Dark Lord, of his soon-to-be killer. The air around him is relaxed, not unafraid, not rebellious, but accepting.

I think that scares Riddle a bit. He, who is so afraid of death, doesn't understand Harry, who seems to have no objection to standing there, alone, without protection, so unlike his cowering twin, so unlike the major rest of the world.

'So, Harry, how does it feel to know that everyone would let you die, just to get your pathetic brother more time. I mean look at them, Albus Dumbledore your all-knowing headmaster, James Potter, Head Auror and sworn to protect every life possible, your mother even your little brother, famous as he is for facing danger.' He points his wand at the persons as he names them, each flinching or, in the case of Kevin, even wincing.

He laughs, high and cruelly. 'And not one is coming to your defense. Your little friends too, if you have some, just stand there, cowed by my power!' it seems that he wants Harry to be afraid. Not happening. He's too strong for you. Too good.

But we knew those words would be said. Riddle is so predictable. They slide off Harry like water, he just doesn't care. He loves us, I know that. And he wants to protect us. Somewhere deep inside me I resent all people in the Great Hall for not helping him, despite the fact, that I know that all residents of Hogwarts, except our little group, have been imbibing will-bending potions over a week now and are bound to Hermione's will. I even hate myself.

'All the teachers who have known you for six years, possibly longer. How does it feel, the so-called light side, the good ones leaving people to die by my wand.' The Death Eaters are jeering now and the students cry as the realization hits them that they are only collateral damage and don't count for anything in this monster's eyes. My, they are quick to catch on. We realised that fact three years ago. Poor Cedric.

I watch as Riddle point his wand at my future fiance's chest, exactly at his heart. Harry still is neither running nor cowering in fear. He hasn't even drawn his wand. I admire him even more than before. He could become a Hollywood actor. He had planned to propose to me as soon as I left Hogwarts. That was before he figured out the truth. Before he told us of the Prophecy. Before we sealed his fate and destroyed any possible future.

Maybe Riddle thinks, Harry wants to die, to commit suicide without committing suicide in the common sense, because he was almost ignored all his life long, shunned in favor for his brother, hidden away in the shadows while his brother got attention from everyone, took it away from him and led a life in the shining light of fame and glory. Maybe that's the reason why he isn't suspicious, why he doesn't think this setup to be a trap, why he is so thoughtless.

Idiot.

Only somebody completely familiar with Harry can see the twitch of his little left finger, a sign betraying his agitation. That means only four other people in the room know he isn't completely at ease. Hermione, Ron, Luna and me. Harry's little group of outcasts, we are sometimes called. Not Mr or Mrs Potter, not our omniscient headmaster, not even Kevin, who is Harry's younger twin and pretends to be the Boy-Who-Lived, not one of them can read Harry. Only Looney Luna Lovegood, Hogwarts' resident beaver-bookworm-know-it-all and the penniless Weasels, friends of Harry. Shunned by society.

I want to run in and stop this whole thing. My heart clenches at the thought of the outcome of The Plan. Both, good and bad. But it has to be perfectly executed. No mistakes are allowed. One mistake … one mistake and Riddle would know. All our planning would have been for nothing. And the world would be dominated by darkness under the reign of Riddle, because nobody except Harry can stop him.

I take a deep breath. I don't hear the sobs or the conversations anymore. Barely ten seconds have passed since the last sentence, but it feels like an hour to me. Or a day. Or a lifetime. I've got tunnel-vision. I only see Harry, Riddle and that deadly wand, yew with a phoenix-feather as a core.

I imagine what Harry feels right now. Is his heart fluttering like a bird? Trying to escape the inevitable? Does he count its beats? His last few minutes? But we can't stop now, not when it's all going according to The Plan.

'… last words for your family?' that line draws me out of my misery and musings. It's my cue. Riddle is so predictable. So bloody predictable. Why? Why can't he be erratic and spare me this torture. But then, The Plan wouldn't work and he would win.

I struggle through the crowd to the front. I say my sentence, so Harry can know that we'll continue with The Plan, so Harry knows that we didn't chicken out. That we force him to continue. 'Harry, please no!' my voice is strangled, I notice I'm crying. How long have I cried now?

This one line, these three words and as simple as that his fate is sealed. Our fates. Does he resent me? Does Harry hate me now, like I hate myself, for condemning him? Why do we have to do this? Why can't the grown ups do it? They are supposed to protect us, not the other way 'round. But as we figured out long ago, adults are not to be trusted with important things.

Why us? Why him? Why does the whole war lie on the shoulders of a seventeen year old boy, who should be worrying about NEWTs and dating and careers and schoolboy rivalries and if his favorite dessert would be served that evening! Not planning to die!

I don't think the teachers even noticed that we slacked off in schoolwork. Maybe they thought we always only brought one out of four assignments? And all the times we sneaked into the Restricted Section, why didn't anybody notice us? Stop us?

Riddle, Harry and I are in positions. I crumble on the floor, crying, precisely where I'm assigned to be. Is there no other way? I want to shout out, to take Harry's place in there, in the hidden ritual-markings. But Harry explained it to us, it has to be him. The Plan has no flaws.

We worked a long time on the ritual. Many nights were spent secretly in the Great Hall preparing for today. A week ago we finished. Harry even knew the exact date for the execution of The Plan. Fished it from Riddle's mind during one of his nightmares. Not that anyone knew that. Not even the great Dark Lord noticed the link between their minds.

I see the others of our group also standing in position. I notice Hermione crying on Ron's shoulder. She and Harry drew the runes, Ron and I adjusted the whole ritual to tonight's stars. Luna stands on my other side, tears streaming down her face. She's quite a talent in Potions and brew the potions used for the runes. At the moment she looks far more aware of the situation and a lot more concentrated than I have ever seen her looking in class.

I look back at Harry. He looks at me, just a flick of his eyes, just a tiny part of a second, but this little time has a far-reaching effect. On him, on me, on us all and most of all on our future. His fingers stop shaking. He's ready. My heart plummets into my stomach. I think I'll die today too. Maybe suicide. No, Harry'll have told the others to keep an eye on me. Like he told me to keep an eye on the others. Suicide-watch.

His lips open. All I can think about are my part in the ritual, drilled into me and practiced to perfection and that I should listen carefully, 'cause I won't ever hear his voice again. But he's interrupted.

'Tom, stop it! Take your followers and leave here now! You can't win!' Dumbledore's voice sounds pitiful even to the most cowed child. Stupid idiot. Now's Harry's time. Not yours. You failed, failed so many years ago and had only failures since that fateful Hallowe'en in 1981. Not that anyone acknowledged that fact, not even you had the courage to admit your wrong-doings.

You lousy adults! You should be standing in Harry's place! Defend us, the students, the next generation! Harry's just a kid! Don't let that continue! Stop him! My fury urges me to stop this. My heart agrees. My soul too.

But no. He told us. It has to be this way. Prophecy. Immortality. Hatred. Revenge. Love.

Before Riddle can respond, Harry does him the favor. 'No, it's okay.' Harry talks with the ease of someone telling their friend about a particular lazy day, not someone facing the certain event of their death. His eyes never stray from those slitted ones, that instill fear in all the others.

'Kill me. But let me tell you that you will not win. You cannot win. As much as it pains me to agree with the headmaster on anything, I have to do it: Love will win over you. You're weak. Face it.' His voice is not loud, but it carries his conviction to the last corner of the room, to every last ear. And it gives them hope. Hope I have lost.

Riddle is furious. He won't let the challenge go, he'll show everyone here what he makes of his opponents and their love. He fell right in our trap, Harry's trap. But Harry isn't finished. Yet.

'Love will win Tom.' A short pause as he draws a breath. 'Kevin' he now addresses his useless, spineless brat of a brother 'Don't interfere. You know you're not strong enough. Save your own life, you're not a hero yet.' He paused. 'Well, that will be it – my last gift' and he fell silent.

He says everything like he told us he'd say it. It's like watching a movie, a cliche, an over-used scene, hero facing villain. I already knew it, but this confirmation makes my heart fall into deep darkness and crushes it to dust. Bloody dust. Painful dust. We are to continue. Under every circumstance.

He knew how Riddle would react, he knows him so well, it's scary sometimes, but we have our suspicions why that is so. Suspicions that'll be confirmed or proven false today. Soon. Harry knew, he would die for his words. And true to form, there it comes-

Riddle cackles, high and cruel. 'Love! Pathetic love will not help you! And your hopeless brother will never defeat me! And Dumbledore is dying anyway! I will win! I, who have gone longer and deeper on the road to immortality and I have succeeded!'

'You won't even buy time for him! He'll never get out! And now, die, despairing, knowing that after you are dead Lord Voldemort will kill your brother, family and your weak lover over there!' He draws a breath, my heart pounds even faster and louder than during free fall on a broom -

'_Avada Kedavra!_' A terrified outcry goes though the students. I shudder, but my eyes are fixed on Harry. I want to close them so desperately, but I can't because this are the last moments I will see my boyfriend alive. Even the youngest here will soon know that the carriages are not horseless.

I'm feeling numb. I watch the green curse speed towards Harry. At the last possible moment his eyes lock with mine. I see deep love in his eyes, not fear, not anger that it has to be him, only love. My resolve strengthens. The Plan will be executed and I can mourn after the final act.

I get ready. Harry's body hits the floor. Dead. Lifeless. He is no more. I think, I feel my heart breaking. Or vanishing. Going into non-existence. I fumble with my boot, take out the hidden knife. The blade is adorned with complicated runes, scratched with a pure mountain crystal.

Next to me Hermione, Ron and Luna also get ready. They draw their wands. The Death Eaters disarmed the student body some time ago, but they are too stupid to discern a wand from a transfigured piece of useless wood. Dead wood. Dead, like my Harry. No, my thoughts stray. I have to concentrate.

My three friends are there to help me with the ritual's second step and to keep me safe should the defenses fall or the ritual fail. It won't, I'm sure.

I rise. The first step had been done. Sacrifice of a human life, willingly given. Harry could have run, could have dueled, could have done something to defend himself. But he didn't. His sacrifice was willingly given. Much like his godfather's death when Riddle attacked and made him the Boy-Who-Lived fifteen years ago. Not that anybody knows that. They think Kevin is our Oh-So-Great-Savior.

I square my shoulders. Riddle's laughing. I hold my hand out in front of me. Riddle stops laughing and looks at me with a calculating shimmer in his eyes. His red eyes. Red like blood. I slash the blade and cut my hand open. I make it deep, maybe it will help block out the pain of my heart for a while.

My red blood flows. It flows down onto the floor. It flows onto the rune, drawn there by a diligent Hermione. Only us three knew it is there. My blood is needed to activate the runes. Now all the drawings, all the runes, circles, lines we drew are glowing. And everybody knows that we have a hidden agenda, a secret plan, a fail-safe if Harry dies. Or so they think.

Luna puts out all other light-sources in the Hall with a quick whip and slash and circle of her wand. Now only the moon of the early morning hours and the runes spend light. The people in here look curiously, scared, saddened, shocked, so many expressions and the one face I'd need to see is empty. Dead.

The Plan is intricate, complicated and difficult. It is simple, clear and easy. It is painful, deadly and frightening. It is joyful, lovely and freeing. It is a ritual for salvation and defeat. It is a coup d'etat, a coup d'theatre. Everyone will see Riddle's downfall, because at the moment every witch and wizard and almost every magical creature is sitting in front of a magical projector, originally planned to show them the live interview of Kevin Potter, fused with the Duelling Competition he wanted to take part in and now showing Riddle's end.

Riddle looks annoyed and then angry. '_Crucio!_' He tries to curse me, to stop me. But the curse hits a barrier of pure ritual magic. Harry knew Riddle too well. He foresaw that action and laid defenses.

You see, Harry invented this ritual. Admittedly, he has had the help of us four, but it was his idea, his design. He was a real genius, but nobody saw that. Well, except us and Snape. Heaven knows how that git found out, Harry had tried to hide it. Snape helped with the finer particularities of the potions Luna brewed. It took us all together eight months to make this ritual flawless.

I struggle with my feelings, push them down and start to chant. Hermione joins me. Then Luna. Ron at last. Our voice interweave and nobody really understands what we are chanting, because it's Ancient Greek. Harry loved that language and designed the ritual in it. He also always said 'I think that Wizards who assume every spell has to be in Latin are idiots. Ancient Greek is older and much more powerful, not that anybody noticed that. Lazy sods'

Riddle doesn't seem to recognize the language. Good, so he won't hear what that ritual is about, all the better. He won't know what hit him. The Plan can't be stopped now. It has no flaws. After all, Harry came up with it.

The Dark Lord starts to bombard the shield with any spell he knows, his wand-work is getting quicker and more violent by the jinx. His hexes also become darker, more evil. But, that's a Dark Lord for you and it still won't help him. This barrier wouldn't go down if Riddle and Dumbledore worked on it. Together, not that this scenario would ever happen.

We stop chanting, our part is finished. Now we wait for the magic to do its job. Lines of light sprout out of Riddle, five in total. They look like laser-beams, white in color. The beams all go in different directions. Four go through the walls and I think about the reactions of the muggles who will see these lights on the streets. I push the thought out of my mind and look at the fifth light.

It connects with Harry and is already of a golden, shimmering shade, not pure white anymore. His guess, or better said, deduction was, of course, correct. Again. Then slowly with a few minutes in between the other lines start to turn golden. The Hall is silent, as if the magic going on had suppressed all independent noise. The Plan works perfectly.

Then all lines are golden. We still wait. Riddle has no idea of what's going on, but he stopped battering the shield with jinxes, seeing as it's futile. It is a good thing that the arrogant bastard never thought to learn Ancient Greek. Otherwise he would have done anything to stop this ritual, even committed suicide.

Suddenly there is a loud metallic 'clunk'. And another. A third. And a 'thump'. The lines have returned. There are things attached to the lines now, laid out at the five endpoints of a pentagram. 'The diadem' whispers Luna. 'The locket' murmurs Ron. 'Nagini' says Hermione. 'The cup. And Harry. All five, Harry's assumption was correct.' my voice is so soft, normally not even the person next to me would have heard it. But our conversation carried throughout the whole room.

Riddle is staring at me in utter horror. Panic seems to spread over his scaly visage. The Death Eaters see this and become nervous. Their Lord, undefeated until now, afraid? He lifts his wand. Distinctly I hear Dumbledore murmur something along the lines 'But... how could he know... and Harry? Not Kevin?...' Our quartet picks up the chant again.

Riddle starts firing one Killing Curse after the other at our barrier. The normally unstoppable curse just fades out of existence as soon as he nears the glowing shield. We reach a crescendo. Ron's deep voice, Hermione's alt, Luna's high soprano and my mezzo-soprano build up until we reach the peak. Then we stop again and let the magic do its work again, one more time, but not the last time for today.

The golden lines start vibrating and their glow increases. I only watch Harry, my love. My fingers are cold and shake as I watch the line draw something out of him. Harry's body shudders and is flung away as the last smoke-like testicle exits him.

This thing … a black congregation of smoke and magic and something … it almost looks slimy, but normally it shouldn't. It's part of a soul. I bet Harry's soul looks better. Looked better. He was a pure soul. Riddle's soul fights back, wants to return to its former host. But it can't, this ritual is way stronger than it. It's fueled by love.

The five beams, all with black mists attached slam back into Riddle with enough force to make him fall to his knees. Riddle lets out an inhuman scream. I shudder. 'He deserves it!' whispers Ron. I fully agree with him.

The Plan's first part is finished. Tom Riddle is now owner of a completely healed soul. Well as far as his soul can be completely healed, because two parts are already destroyed, courtesy of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore.

I hand the ritual-knife to Hermione. She slits my other hand, so fresh blood flows down onto the floor and then her own hand. Our blood is then joined by Ron's and Luna's, all cut with the same enchanted knife. If the Ministry of Magic had any idea that we had planned two blood-, soul- and life-rituals we would have been Kissed by a Dementor long ago. Without a trial. But they are so dumb, these bureaucrats, didn't notice anything. Not that anyone of us would have talked. Not even Snape, spy for now three sides.

We have it all planned out. Two rituals requiring sacrifices, all with one death. The first ritual required the sacrifice of a live, the second requires the sacrifice of a human's magic, and the only way for that is death. But who is to say that they require two mortals to die. Harry took care of that on his own.

This time I speak alone, because I have the most intimate, most loving relationship with the dead person. This is a very old ritual, hidden in an equally old book, hidden in the Room of Requirements. Admittedly, we tweaked it a bit, made it usable. I mean, some plants are not existing anymore, are extinct and nobody is able to speak Old Elvish today anymore. We translated the runes into English.

_'I seek you; Life. Soul. Mind._

_Magic, hear me call upon you!_

_Judge this person, he is not kind,_

_Magic, hear me call upon you!_

_Magic, this is Harry's Last Gift!'_

Very simple, very effective. I repeat it again and again. Five times. Then I stop. The room is as silent as a tomb.

Nothing happened. Did I do something wrong? O god, please no! Did we make a mistake? Was Harry's magic not good enough? Was he too afraid? No, it was certainly not Harry's fault. Was it mine? Am I faulty? Am I not worthy of this ritual? Do – did I not love Harry enough? Has Harry's death gone to waste?

No, please magic, don't let him have died in vain! Not him! Not my love! He could have lived happily, could have lived the life he deserved! Tears were streaming down my face anew. I remember his smile. A beautiful smile I'd never see again. Never again would his arms surround me in a gentle hug.

'Please' I whisper. 'Please, don't do this to Harry!' I thought. Suddenly Riddle glows, white with magic encompassing him. First he looks a this hands in wonder. Then an evil smirk grows on his face. I wonder when it was that he has stood up. He looks younger than before. And somehow more powerful. I feel afraid.

'Do you really believe magic, would judge me, Lord Voldemort, you silly girl? Look, it acknowledges me and makes me more powerful! I have to thank you! Now nobody can stop me!' he cackles and with a flowing movement throws a sickly green light in my direction – without a wand.

A cold dread spreads grips my whole body. What have we done? The light hits the shield, but instead of evaporating like before, it pools there and starts battling with the magic of the shield. A sliver of hope comes up within the depths of my heart. The shield holds, the ritual isn't finished yet! my heartbeat speeds up again, thumps against my chest, like rain against a window in a thunderstorm. I didn't know it could even go faster than before.

'Harry' I whisper, my voice silent and light like a morning breeze in spring. My friends still heard me. The shield starts vibrating. 'Harry' Luna's voice is louder than mine. 'Harry' Ron and Hermione say it at the same time, loud enough to carry on to other ears. My heart fills with warmth at the thought of my friends and of Harry.

'Harry' Kevin's voice is filled with longing, despair, sorrow and guilt. 'Harry' Dumbledore sounds hopeful. 'Harry' Mr and Mrs Potter's voices are filled with unshed tears. 'Harry' the name runs through the Hall like a prayer, a last shimmer of hope. Each whisper, call filled with emotions. The shield vibrates stronger.

'The boy is dead! He won't help you! Your love can't save you, you fools!' Riddle gloats, but then he looks uncertain, caused by a quiet 'puff' and the disappearance of his curse. 'Harry!' I say as loud as my rough voice lets me. The magic we did today was very exhausting and it's starting to take its toll on me.

'Harry!' I shout, sounding pained, desperate, loving. I think of all the secret kisses we shared, of all the times we spent together and of all the hings we could still have done, if he just hadn't given up his life for this cause. For the greater good.

A thunderclap. Darkness descended upon us. Not like all lights went out, but like there was no light on earth. I feel a wave of magic rush through me, through the Great Hall of Hogwarts and I am sure through the whole country, maybe the whole world. A heart-wrenching scream, cut off short.

Then a blinding white light and everything is back to normal again. The ritual is finished. I blink to regain my eye-sight. A few seconds later the Hall comes into focus. The first ray of sunlight falls through a window and dunks the scene in a rosy light. A new day has broken. The first day of a new era – Riddle's dead body lies spread-eagle on the floor in front of me.

I don't really notice it, my brain refuses to acknowledge the meaning – a new peaceful life, no more dead-threats, Lord Voldemort is dead! I just look at Harry. Beautiful, poor, strong, intelligent,loving Harry. Dead Harry.

My world comes crushing down. He's gone. Dead. Left me. I take no notice of the cheering that broke out. I run to Harry's side. Fling myself at him. I don't notice that our seal on the Great Hall's doors has broken and that the Death Eaters are all arrested by the Aurors, who now finally can enter the battlefield.

I cry. I shout at him for being a stupid, idiotic, heroic, self-sacrificing imbecile. Cry harder. Shout for him to wake up and stop playing games with me. Shut up and cling to him for dear life. I don't know how long I've clung to him. I didn't notice Hermione and Luna crying too and Ron holding them both stoically. Didn't notice as Hermione calms down and explains the whole plan and its reason to a enticed crowd.

Harry is dead. He didn't come back to life through some miracle. He is getting cold under my hands as we speak. I think, I drifted of to sleep sometime, there in the middle of the Hall, clinging to Harry's dead body. I wake up again. I see the reality of my nightmare, the reality Harry and I prepared for for so long, the reality that still hurts too much. I can't even cry anymore, I'm totally dried up.

But despite it all, The Plan was successful.

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Well, there is it, my first one-shot. In the beginning I would have let Harry survive, but then the title would have been meaningless. I hate meaningless titles. Also, the whole story would have been pointless and all the emotions would have looked very cheesy. In fact, it still looks very cheesy. But if there is the wish I can post the alternative ending, but I personally think, alternative endings are not very nice. I have enough trouble coping with a finished story without alternative endings.**

**And yes, I know that Ginny (or whomever you'd like to have as second main character and Harry's lover) is very dramatic. But, see it like this. Ginny is strong, she continues, doesn't break down when her lover is killed, she continues, acts out The Plan and fights on. She knows, that there is no other way, because Voldemort would win, because he is a lot stronger in this fic and his course is already more advanced than before.**

**After all, it's already the canon-trio's seventh year and Kevin Potter didn't go Horcrux-hunting, Dumbledore never died, so we have to conclude that he never went after the locket, so the hunt the five students would undertake would take a long, long time, since they don't know all about Riddle, because Dumbledore showed the memories to Kevin, not Harry, they would have had no chance of finding them. So Ginny knows, that this is the only way they will survive, the only way Riddle's darkness will fall. But she loves Harry. Loves him so much, that in canon she waits a year for him, endures pain and humiliation just to help him (think of the act of trying to steal Gryffindor's sword in DH and their continuation of the DA under her, Luna's and Neville's leadership) and still marries him. **

**Now, she has to see her love die, see him sacrifice himself, helps even to make it possible and reasonable for him and can talk herself into a panic all the time, they take to invent the first ritual and find and tweak the second one and then the time it takes to prepare it all. I think, if Harry was her so-called soul mate, her actions, thoughts and feelings are justified. Think of Romeo and Juliet. At least it isn't that cheesy and drama queen-ic and written in verse. Shudder.**

**For Harry and his actions: He doesn't want others to be hurt and isn't able to see another way out. He knows that the others will keep going, because he trusts them with his life, literally. In canon, he wants to sacrifice himself and here he really does it. He saves all his friends, his family and all other people of Great Britain.**

**oOoOoOoOoOoOo**


End file.
